


Your Smile Won't Bring About the Apocolypse

by TheAzureAegis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone is Human (For now), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Derek is a bartender, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Possible dating, Stiles is a server, Stiles just wants to see Derek smile, Stiles may be in over his head, They work in a restaurant, WIP, Won't be too long though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureAegis/pseuds/TheAzureAegis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bro, you won’t be alone bro!  Derek is totally closing tonight too br—!” Scott beamed brightly as he replaced his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, ignoring the affronted look he shot at Scott’s hand.  "I only used it twice this time.”  Scott looked genuinely proud of himself as he offered his best friend a shrug.<br/>Stiles audibly groaned at this news.  “And how exactly does that make it better?  That dude is seriously allergic to fun, it’s like he thinks if he somehow decides to actually smile, it would bring about the apocalypse!  God forbid what cataclysmic event would happen if he actually laughed.  That, and he hates me!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Smile Won't Bring About the Apocolypse

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I tried something different. Comment, kudos, and let me know!
> 
> Completely unbetaed, in fact it was written at like 4 AM. I apologize in advance.

“So that’s gonna be one Mushroom Moon Sensation, cooked medium well on a white bun with onion rings, for the dude man, and one Husky Caesar salad, hold the croutons, easy on the dressing with the chicken on the side for the lady?” Stiles squints at the chicken scratch vaguely making out what looked like the letter “s” somewhere among the wreckage.  He honestly doesn’t even know why he bothers to write anything down since even he can’t make heads or tails of anything he _ever_ writes down—it’s mostly for show he decides on the spot nodding fervently, though mostly at himself.  He should really just consider himself lucky he has an eidetic memory— the _only_ reason he has yet to mess up an order in the two months at his new job serving at the newest restaurant, The Wolf Pack, to open in Beacon Hills in about six years. 

“Huh?” The less than intelligent looking lad offers him as he stares down Stiles, seemingly trying to decide whom this strange person standing at their table is, as if he only noticed Stiles’ existence at that exact moment. 

Stiles cocks an eyebrow, his false smile slowly fading at the man’s response, deciding if it really would be worth it to re-introduce himself altogether. 

He promptly decides against it. That would require a lot more effort than it’s worth.  “I’ll go put in your order now, but if you need anything else just let me…” he trailed off, rolling his eyes as the couple seemed to have lost interest and began making out and seriously?  He was supposed to be the one with A.D.D. here.  They were one of those couples that sit on the _same_ side of the booth, who does that?  Weirdoes, that’s who.  Don’t you want to be able to see your companion when you’re sharing a meal?  Quickly cough-muttering _use protection_ under his breath, he quickly scampered away towards the kitchen.   

“Stiles!  Bro!  Buddy-o-pal!” A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder as he finished punching in his table’s order.

“I am not closing for you again Scott.  I did it the last four times and got like two extra tables in one hour.” Stiles didn’t even bother to turn around.

“T-that’s not—“ Scott sputtered fake-disbelief laced heavily in his protest.  “Okay bro, you got me.”  He had the decency to sound at least a little guilty.  “But I have a date!  With Allison!  Allison Argent! C’mon bro, help a bro out, bro!”

“First, no one should ever use the word ‘bro’ more than twice in the same sentence or even once for that matter.” Stiles carefully peeled Scott’s hand off of his shoulder using his thumb and forefinger.  “Secondly, Allison gets off the same time you would tonight, why do you need me to close for you?” 

“I need to go home and shower and you know, stuff bro!”

Scott did have a point.  “You do smell like a gym bag more often then not.” Stiles pretended to contemplate the idea. 

“Yea—Hey!” An expression resembling a kicked puppy morphed across his friend’s uneven face.

Throwing up his hands, Stiles relented.  “Fine. Fine!  Leave me all alone here to close all alone, by myself.” 

“Bro, you won’t be alone bro!  Derek is totally closing tonight too br—!” Scott beamed brightly as he replaced his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, ignoring the affronted look he shot at Scott’s hand.  "I only used it twice this time.”  Scott looked genuinely proud of himself as he offered his best friend a shrug.

Stiles audibly groaned at this news.  “And how exactly does _that_ make it better?  That dude is seriously allergic to fun, it’s like he thinks if he somehow decides to actually smile, it would bring about the _apocalypse_!  God forbid what cataclysmic event would happen if he actually laughed.  That, and he _hates_ me!”

Scott flashed him a look.  “Derek’s not that bad bro.  He’s actually the one of the best bartenders we have.”  He shrugged.  “And to be fair, I think he just hates everything.  You know, even kittens, and other cute stuff.” Scott made a face.

“Leave the wit to me, bro.”  Stiles sighed as he resigned himself to an extra two hours of work.   He sluggishly glanced over to the bar where Derek was showing off, mixing about three drinks at once while muttering one-word answers to the multiple ladies lined up at the bar.  They were practically throwing themselves at him.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  _Okay_ , so even he had to admit the man was good at what he did, and he did bring in a crowd, the ladies and gentlemen alike, but seriously how did someone like that even keep a job in the service industry where could be fired if you were caught for something as simple as forgetting to smile?  And he certainly knew that Derek definitely got some complaints about his let’s just call it, less than chipper demeanor.  Some of these complaints may or may not have been from Stiles.  He _fondly_ remembers his first weeks at the restaurant where Derek barely made any eye contact with him and practically threw his drinks at him, causing him to drop a few glasses and about six different dishes, shattering them on the floor in an instant, causing a round of applause to erupt from the crowd of bar patrons that had just watched the entire fiasco go down. 

Yep, the guy definitely hated him that much Stiles quite certain of.  And he had to close tonight.  You know, with Derek.

Stiles’ pursed his lips into a line as he rolled his eyes again.  “Fine, but if I do this _bro_ you have to stop saying bro, bro.”

“Easy peasy br—buddy.” He shot Stiles a meek smile as he spun around fist pumping the air in victory.

“And you have to do all of my side work next week!” Stiles yelled after his friend, his efforts seemingly fruitless as he watched Scott gleefully announce ‘corner’ as he walked out of the kitchen into the dining room.

 A loud slew of coos from the bar caught his attention as the ladies were shouting compliments at Derek and ordering more drinks, his face remaining un-cracked, just the smallest of nods of acknowledgement to his raving fan club.

And that’s when it hit him, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.  “I’m making it my personal mission to end the world tonight.” He dramatically rubbed his palms together cackling softly.

“Stop talking to yourself and get back to work Stilinski!” A strong female voice cut across the kitchen causing him to jump and flail about a bit in place.  “We need food runners here!”

“Right away boss man Lydia!”  He scurried back onto the floor; silently giggling to himself as Lydia spewed garbled curses aimed at him, while slowly planning out operation Crack the Hale.

 

 

As Stiles predicted, it was a pretty slow night.  He was kind of expecting this sort of thing anywho, college had started up again and there was some new health food fad going around town recently, and their burgers and most of their menu wasn’t exactly high up there on the gluten-free fad.  He had a few tables here and there, but it was mostly a if –you-have-nothing-to-do-clean-random-things sort of shift.  But this of course meant he had all the more time to implement his possibly evil plan.   
“So what did the pirate say when he turned eighty?” Stiles slid up to the bar as smoothly as he could, meaning he only stumbled just a little bit, as Derek stood behind the well, cleaning wine glasses with a white bar towel.  He attempted to waggle his eyebrows at the man, only succeeding in making himself look like he was having some sort of face spasm.

No response.

Stiles could wait, an eternity if he had to!  Okay, so it was more like ten seconds.  “He said, Aye Matey!” He slapped his knee as he threw his head back, laughing at his own joke.  It wasn’t pathetic.  “What? Dude, it was totally funny.  While being family friendly, which was seriously a rarity now days.”

Derek, finally looking over at the kid, raised an eyebrow before looking over at the bar printer confirming that indeed there were no tickets for drinks there.  “What do you need, Stiles?” He practically grumbled every syllable, which had to be a talent somewhere in the world.  Maybe there was a place called Gumpagascar.  Where sunshine was outlawed and Derek would be their king grump.

“By the gods!  You actually spoke more than one word?  Alert the presses!  Someone call Ellen DeGeneres!” Stiles looked around quickly.  “Lydia!” He screeched, “Derek just said five _whole_ words!  I think this calls for cake!” He looked back at Derek resting an arm on the bar, nodding.  “ _Totally_ calls for some cake.”

“Shut it Stilinski!  No cake for you!” Came Lydia’s voice from the back, clearly not amused.

Derek just sighed as he moved on to clean the tumbler glasses.  The bar wasn’t really hopping tonight either.  
“Oh _come on_ grumpy!  Seriously, if you were a meme you would be that one with that grumpy, yet totally adorable looking cat.  Just gotta slap some angry eyebrows on that baby and it’s totally the spitting image of you!”  Stiles rambled on as he made a frame with his fingers over the man’s profile, closing one eye for effect. 

Derek raised both eyebrows this time.  
“Not that I’m saying your adorable,” Stiles nodded, looking upwards, “but grumpy, definitely grumpy.”  Stiles whipped out his phone, he was really lucky it was _extremely_ dead tonight, as he pulled up the grumpy cat meme waving his phone around trying to get Derek to look.  “Although, I think I’m pegging you as more of a dog person.” Stiles rubbed his chin.  “Maybe I can make you a grumpy dog meme? Yes.  Totally doable!”

All attempts failed.

“Don’t you have some actual work to be doing?” Derek seemed mildly more interested in cleaning glasses than seeing a kitty or dog meme.  Something was _seriously_ wrong with this guy; nobody can resist the grumpy cat meme!  Nobody!  Stiles was mildly worried that a black hole would open up below the guy for defying some sort of laws of the universe or something.

Stiles pouted.  “Well, Scott did warn me that you didn’t like kittens, or anything cute.  Okay, fine! I give up. But make sure to give me credit for your Guinness book worthy world shattering sentence when Ellen calls and you’re suddenly on national TV now.” Stiles smoothly walked backwards away from the bar.  Smoothly meaning he promptly tripped over his own feet and flailed for about three seconds teetering between finding his balance and actually falling, making extremely distressed dying bird noises, before actually falling backwards squarely on his behind.

“Owwww.” Stiles rubbed his butt as he got up, his head shooting up as he distinctly heard someone snort.  Someone that is, from the bar.  But by the time he looked up, Derek seemed to be perfectly stone-faced wiping the same glass over and over.  But  he saw it, it was tiny and probably not even visible under a microscope, but it was there, the tiniest of a smile pulling so desperately at the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Ha!” Stiles announced loudly.  “You just snorted at me, and _now_ you’re smiling! Well not exactly ‘smiling’ but that on you is like the freaking Mona Lisa of all smiles!” Stiles fist-pumped the air causing his back to crack audibly.  “Ow.” His face fell as he held his back dramatically causing another small snort in the direction of the bar.  Derek was turned away this time.  
“Don’t think I didn’t hear you buddy.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at the back of Derek’s head making the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture with two of his fingers, backing away from the bar slowly, being extra careful not to trip over anything or you know, himself.  Again.  “And just FYI, the world didn’t end Derek.”  He announced as he turned around doing another fist pump because yeah, he could definitely count this one as a win.

 

And so began Stiles Stilinski’s new found mission to force Derek Hale, the stonewall of The Wolf Pack to actually smile or you know, show any sort of emotion besides grumpiness.  Either that or annoy him until he man committed murder.  Which was entirely possible possibility.  It wouldn’t be Stiles’ first rodeo.  But he’s not supposed to talk about that.  Stiles _really_ needed to re-evaluate some of his life choices. 

Over the next few weeks Stiles threw his best jokes, wittiest comments, and just general flailing, which was completely normal by the way, he could possibly think of at Derek at every free moment he had at the restaurant. It kind of became his thing helping him pass his time during his slower shifts.  Which included some really awkward knock knock jokes.  It’s kind of difficult to get your punch line across when your partner doesn’t speak to or acknowledge you at all.  Somehow along the way though, Stiles ran out of jokes to tell and soon resorted to just rambling at the man, about school, work, the ridiculous things his guests would ask, his dad, Scott, Scott’s general potato-ness and his new girlfriend, video games, what he planned to do in the event of a zombie apocalypse or in case he ever actually did smile and bring upon the end of days. 

You know, just normal stuff. 

And although he was never actually sure if Derek was actually listening, Derek never said any word otherwise, just the occasional grunt, which had to be a good sign after all.  Right?  The man definitely had no qualms about telling the other employees to beat it when he didn’t particularly care for them.  Like Jackson.  He definitely told Jackson to stop pestering him about becoming a bartender and to get back to work just the other week.  The douche totally deserved it too, he had been kissing management’s ass about moving up for the past month and that guy was one of the laziest people at The Wolf Pack.  Or just kissing Lydia in general.  Okay so he kind of maybe just hated Jackson.  The kid only had this job because his rich parents finally cut him off after he totaled his second Porsche.  Seriously if Jackson were an animal he would totally be a clam, you know because he’s so shellfish?  Okay, lame joke but he seriously was thinking about giving Derek a medal for that one. 

And so this went on for _months_.  The usual, Stiles talking to Derek, no one actually sure if Derek is actually listening.  No response from Derek.  But in a way it was nice for Stiles.  He had sort of lost his best friend to Allison Argent in the recent months; the two were practically attached at the hip now, which left Stiles as the awkward third wheel when Scott somehow remembered that he even had a best friend to include into his plans, which was about a grand total of twice in the last three months, and only because Allison had remembered to invite him. 

But Stiles surprisingly found himself talking to Derek about things he wouldn’t even think about talking to Scott about.  Things like his dreams aspirations in life, about why he decided to go into medical school to study and become a specialist in oncology and, finally his worries about his father not eating as healthy as he should and how he would sneak sprouts into almost everything his father took to work, and how he let all the deputies know that if he’s going to eat any doughnuts, they better be made of freaking vegetables. 

So Stiles talked.  And talked.  And with a little change in narration, he talked some more.  He even tried third person for a little while but saying his name own name _that_ many times in any sentence was just a bit too creepy.  It was kind of a dysfunctional relationship thingy but it worked for him.  At a certain point he even stopped looking for any sort of reaction, just being satisfied with someone being there to hear him out.  Okay, so he still wasn’t sure if Derek was _actually_ hearing him out, but in his little Stiles world, he was just a really good listener taking mental notes for later on, and that’s why he didn’t reply.  Yep.  Totally true.

Which is probably one of the reasons how he completely missed the somewhat concerned look on Derek’s face at the end of his shift as Stiles had been walking back and forth to the bar all day, but had yet to say a single word to Derek. 

To be honest though, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind today.  He was sort of pre-occupied with his own problems here today, of all days, was not turning out the way he had planned at all.  
“Hey.” Derek’s voice caused Stiles to jump as he hit his head on a hanging lamp while wiping down his tables as he was stuck—yet again—closing for Scott as he went out on some date with Allison again, _today_.  Stiles swallowed back the bile that threatened to come up as he thought more about it. 

“Ow, goddammit.” Stiles grumbled as he rubbed his head, wincing.  
Derek looked slightly pained as he spoke again.  “You okay?”

“Fine.” Stiles couldn’t even find it in him to care that Derek was actually talking back to him for once as he attempted to take the lacquer off of his tables with his pledge towel.

“You don’t really sound okay.”  Derek stated matter-of-factly.

“Well you wouldn’t be okay either if your best friend forgot that it was your twenty first birthday and he promised to take you out for your first drink when you were like five and on top of that asked you to stay and work for them so that he could take his girlfriend out for the fifth time this week and its only Thursday.”  Stiles gasped as he sucked in some air, he hadn’t meant to say so much in one breath.  But these sorts of things just happen sometimes—okay all the time, with Stiles at least.

“Sounds like your friend is being a potato.” Derek stated as he came around the front of the bar, putting the bar stools up for the night, his muscles flexing in the tight black undershirt he wore under his uniform.

Stiles laughed, stopping what he was doing before looking up at the man.  “Did you seriously just call Scott a potato?”

Derek scrunched up his face, offering a sheepish shrug.  “Isn’t that what you call him normally?”

“Oh my god, do you actually listen to me when I talk?”  Stiles dropped his towel, and his mouth.  “I mean I assume you just tune me out, kind of what I do with the music here, it’s _really_ bad, and seems to be on some sort of loop.  Doesn’t Lydia pay some company to give us variety?” 

“It’s kind of hard not to.” Derek shook his head, ignoring Stiles’ tangent, but it seemed like fonder gesture rather than one of annoyance.  “You’re…persistent, to say the least.”

Stiles placed both his hands on his chest above his heart.  “Aww Der-bear, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.  And oddly, one of the only things you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t ever call me that.” Derek shot him a pointed look.

“Sorry.” Stiles offered him only a half-apologetic expression raising both of his hands in a defensive manner, totally planning on using that later to his advantage. 

“Hurry up and finish up Stiles.”  Derek rolled his eyes.

The last thing Stiles really wanted to hear was to work faster, he wanted today to be over already but was really not looking forward to going back to an empty home on a night he should be partying like a rock star.  He really hated his life right now.  “Yeah, yeah I’m working as fast as I can.”  Stiles grumbled under his breath.

He ended up kind of dragging his feet anyways getting finished around 11:00 PM.  He began walking towards the exit of the restaurant planning out the rest of his evening.  He really didn’t want to go home yet and debated going out to a bar flying solo, but thought about the repercussions of not having a designated driver, his father was the sheriff after all and he would not be hearing the end of it if he ended up with a DUI.  When he walked into a brick wall.  A brick wall with arms.  Stiles flailed backwards surely toppling over if not for the pair of hands that quickly steadied him in place.

“What the—“ Stiles looked up to see a slightly amused face under a reverse duck tail hair do looking back at him.  He flushed slightly, he had never been this close to Derek before, and now he found himself close enough to smell his deodorant, which in Derek’s defense didn’t smell bad at all. He made a mental not to ask about the brand and scent later on.

“Try to be a little more careful?  You’re like a walking liability, I swear.”  Derek rolled his eyes.

“Sorry man, I totally expected you to be 86 of this place by now.  I mean you’re here practically everyday.  What _are_ you still doing here?”  Stiles sounded only slightly suspicious.

Derek shifted uncomfortably as his expression hardened even more; Stiles didn’t even think that was possible.  He finally seemed to decide on a simple shrug as the look of constipation washed away.  “I was waiting for you.”

Stiles slapped himself.  Hard.  Causing Derek to flinch slightly.  “Freaking mother of god.  I’ve finally annoyed you enough that you’re actually going to murder me in the parking lot aren’t you?  Will you at least let me call my father and tell him I love him one last time?  Never you mind that he’s the Sherriff and that I could be calling for help and I really shouldn’t have said that if you’re actually going to let me call my Dad, yeah just get it over with.”

“How did you even manage to say that much in one breath?” Derek had an incredulous look on his face.

“How did you manage to say an actual sentence that was more than six words?” Foot. In. Mouth.  He really shouldn’t be egging on the person that may or may not be murdering him tonight.

Derek let out an exasperated sigh.  “I’m _not_ going to kill you.”

“…yet?” Stiles squeaked as he desperately tried to wiggle himself out of Derek’s iron grip.  Seriously how many times a week did this guy work out?

“I haven’t decided yet.” Derek deadpanned as he let Stiles go, though making sure he was actually able to stand on his own first.

Stiles scoffed.  “Oh, haha, Sarcasm, didn’t think you were capable of that.  And if your hairstyle is the reverse duck tail, doesn’t that make your face the butt— annnd shutting up now.”

Two bushy eyebrows were raised high on Derek’s face, what looked like a killer’s intent splayed across his broody face.  Or amusement.  Stiles couldn’t really decide yet as he had never seen that expression on Derek before.  “I’m taking you out for a drink.”  He simply stated, donning a leather jacket over his undershirt.

“Oh, you would have a leather jacket, mister I’m _soo_ cool and I have a lea—“ Stiles gaped. “Wait, what?”

“It’s your birthday, after all.” Derek made it sound like an offhanded comment as he shuffled in place.  “Hurry up, it’s Beacon Hills, the bars close early.” He informed Stiles impatiently as he strode out the door leaving a Stiles, doing a pretty good impression of a goldfish, in his wake.

“He’s going to get me drunk, then kill me.  Yep.  I’m totally a dead man.”  But he couldn’t help but feel a little better.  “Well, at least I’ll get a free beer before I die.”  Stiles shrugged, quickly tailing the older man.  Perhaps Derek Hale wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

 

“Beacon Hills on a Thursday night at almost midnight is definitely a wild place to be, eh?”  Stiles leaned over announcing his astute observations as they sat at a bar about one block away from The Wolf Pack.  The place was no Ritz, but the bar was relatively clean, you know for a bar, and the beer was cold.  Ice cold.   He was honestly just psyched that he got ID’d for the first time ever and got to show his _real_ ID. There was only about a grand total of ten people in the bar including them, and most of them were either shooting pool or throwing darts, it wasn’t exactly where he expected to be for his twenty first birthday, least of all sitting at the bar top with Derek Hale of all people.  Seriously, Harry Potter would have made it higher on that list of potential people to be hanging out with at a bar, especially if he happened to be in London at the time.

They ended up playing some darts and a game of pool, which Stiles totally let Derek win by the way.  Both darts and the pool, he was such a nice guy.  Seriously.  But it was fun.  It was easy to be around Derek for some reason.  The guy barely talked, but seemed to acknowledge everything that he said or did, something that most people normally didn’t do, especially when around someone with A.D.D.  They finally settled down at the bar after about an hour, Derek ordering them another and doing a small toast for his birthday.

Derek looked a little uncomfortable.  “Sorry.  If this really isn’t your scene.” The constipated look was back.

The boy made a mental note to get Derek some ExLax or something.  “No man, it’s cool.  This is totally my scene.  Yeah, that’s my jammmm.” Stiles began dancing in place on his barstool to a country song that had just come on; he was already feeling the buzz after just one beer. 

Derek’s hand stilled him.  “Don’t do that.” He shook his head. “Ever.”

“Sour…wolf.  It’s my birthday and I do what I want!”  Stiles announced to no one in particular pounding his second beer of the night before slamming the glass down on the table feeling victorious.  “I demand another!”  He announced feeling maybe just a little bit tipsy.  But just a lot of bit.  “You totally look like a sour wolf by the way.”

“Take it easy Stiles.” Derek steadied him, as he seemed to teeter on his stool, completely ignoring the pet name.

He was most definitely feeling a bit tipsy if not drunk.  He only had like two beers!  Granted he pounded them and they were like personal sized pitchers, he was starting to love this place, but Stiles distinctly remembers having a higher tolerance than this, and now he was quite perplexed but it might just have been because the bar was starting to spin just a little bit.

“Have you eaten anything today, Stiles?”  Derek shook his head as he waved the bartender over ordering them some chips and salsa.

“I had…” Stiles blinked a few times, trying to remember the last time he actually consumed some food today.  “Absolutely nothing today, tee hee hee.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he shoved the chips in front of Stiles to munch on ordering Stiles water as well.  But Stiles was already a bit too far-gone, he felt the weight of his emotions from the day starting to crash down upon him.  He forgot what an emotional drunk he could be sometimes.

“Hey, Derek.  I’m s-sorry okay?”  Stiles pouted a bit as he steadied himself on Derek’s bicep.

Derek’s normal response of a raised eyebrow spun in his vision.

“I know I’m just some annoying kid that you work with and you really don’t want to be here and Scott is just a stupid potato head.”  Stiles was sure he had some sort of point just a moment ago.  “A _really_ stupid potato head that is obviously a liar and can never ever be trusted again.  He broke our promise!  We were five when we made it!  That’s like a…” Stiles began to count the years on his fingers.  “Like a sixteen year promise, who does that?” Tortilla chips were launched out of his mouth as he talked and yet he still shoveled more chips in.

“It’s fine, Stiles.  And you’re not _that_ annoying.”  Derek shrugged, dusting some of the chip shrapnel off of his lap as he finished off his own beer.  He turned towards the bar to a few bills on the table.  “I hate to cut things short, but I do have to open tomorrow morning.”

“O-oh yeah, totally, let me just pay…” Stiles’ face fell as he fumbled for his wallet as Derek’s hand shot out to stop him from falling off his chair.  Again.  Of course Derek would want to leave already.  Who was he kidding?

“I got it already Stiles, let’s just get you home safely.  But there’s just one more thing.”

“Huh?” Stiles was genuinely surprised to see some sort of cake like object appear magically in front of him with a very sad looking candle, but it was a bar, and bars generally don’t do this type of thing.  Not to mention at this point the sad candle and cake looking object looked like the Holy Grail to him right now.  The couple of employees working sang him a quick happy birthday song, as Derek just looked uncomfortable during the whole ordeal deciding that he would leave all the singing to the barkeeps.  Stiles was not ashamed to say he wolfed down the entire cake like object in ten seconds flat nearly eating the candle in the process if not for Derek snatching it out of the way, and was thoroughly satisfied with beer, cake, and tortilla chips in his belly.

“Ready to go?” Derek asked him, as he seemed to be torn between disgusted and impressed on how quickly Stiles had put the cake away.

Stiles could only nod as he let Derek lead him out of the bar and into his Camaro, making sure to confiscate Stiles’ keys before they left the bar.  “You have a niceeeee car man!”

Derek’s expression faded into something a bit more somber but offered him a wry smile.  “Thanks.  For tonight.  It was a lot of fun.”  Derek totally rocked with a smile, even if it was such a small one.

“You totally just smiled.  Oh god, the world is g-going to endddddd.  Ahhh!” Stiles flopped around like a fish in the passenger seat, throwing his hands up into the air for dramatic effect.  He finally settled down and nuzzled his face into the soft leather of the seat.  “Mmm, you have a nice smile.  You should do it more often.”  Stiles was bordering on dreamland.

“Do I have to worry about you throwing up?”  Was all Derek replied, his expression just the tiniest of bit teasing.

“N-no way man, I only had like _two_ beers I should be cheeeerrry.” Stiles let out a huge belch.

“Classy.” Derek deadpanned starting his engine.

“Damn skippy I am!”  

Derek rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you home.”

“Oh, do you need my address?”  Stiles closed his eyes as he let his head loll backwards onto the cool leather.

“You’re the Sherriff’s son right?” Derek shrugged.  “I know where that is.”

“Oh, cool.”  Stiles began to drift off.   “By the way?”

Derek looked over at the sleepy Stiles as he pulled out of the bar’s parking lot.

“Thanks.”  Stiles beamed brightly, the flush of the alcohol still in his cheeks giving him a rosy hue.

Derek nodded as he shifted his focus back on the road.

Stiles vaguely remembers getting home and Derek helping him—carrying him—to his door wishing him a curt happy birthday before driving off.

“Well this was officially the weirdest birthday I’ve ever had.” He nodded to himself before passing out in his bed with his shoes still on.  Despite the shitty day it started out, by the end of the night, it actually turned out to be kind of nice.

 

Stiles awoke the next morning with a start.  He only had a slight headache but felt surprisingly rested.  This maybe had to do with the fact that it was already 10:00 AM and his first class started about half an hour ago.

“Shit!” Stiles screeched as he hurriedly changed and grabbed his backpack, searching desperately for his keys.  When it hit him.  His car.  He left it at the bar and Derek had his keys!  He was so screwed.  He ran downstairs calling the restaurant when he noticed that his baby was already in his driveway.  He quickly hung up, rushing out to hug his jeep as he looked around for the keys, finding them quickly in the visor.  But how did his baby get here?

“Are you like Lassie? Did you hear my distress then come barreling home?” Stiles pondered for a moment as he gingerly stroked his jeep’s mirror.  Mrs. Higgens from across the street shooting him a perplexed look at his actions as she watered her front lawn. 

“Hi…Mrs. Higgens!”  Stiles waved awkwardly.  “Nice day we’re having, huh?  With the weather, and the sky, all blue…and stuff.”

She gave a weary wave back and promptly decided that the lawn had enough water for today and hurried back inside. 

Opening the door, he looked around his jeep to see if everything was still there.  Yep. Nothing missing.  10:15 AM blinking on his jeep’s clock.  “Shit!  I’ll have to solve this mystery some other time!” Stiles gunned it all the way to Beacon Hills Community College.

 

The Wolf Pack was actually kind of busy when he came in for his shift on Friday night after his fiasco at school.  He somehow barely managed to get all the work he needed from his first class despite him missing over three fourths of the class, but had a relatively shitty day after that as he got a parking ticket, and found out he had about three projects due within the next week.  The general crappiness of the day only compounded by the fact that his best friend had ditched him the day before.

Speak of the devil.

Scott scurried over to his friend, proverbial tail between his legs as he handed Stiles a small wrapped gift, an apologetic smile covering 85 percent of his crooked face. 

“Stiles!  I’m so—“

Stiles walked right past him turning around to pluck the gift from him and walking straight into the kitchen and promptly placing it in to the nearest trash can.  What? They were busy; they _needed_ Stiles to be on the floor!  He quickly clocked in, Lydia shooting him a strange look as he walked into the dining room to start his shift.  He quickly surveyed the restaurant wanting to let Scott sweat it out a bit before talking to him and possibly forgiving him for being a shitty friend, not that he even wanted to at this point.  He spotted Derek, giving him a small smile and wave, Derek simply nodding stoically back at him.  Which was miles of progress in itself.

Scott turned the corner and Stiles quickly walked up to a table to take their order.  It’s not like his birthday was even the first time lately that Scott simply bailed on him.  It’s been this way for a while now and Stiles hasn’t really said anything.  He chalked it up to Scotty being in love and all that jazz but seriously you can only be so understanding.  If Scott wanted Allison as his best friend now, well he could have her.  Stiles was letting the anger get the better of him as he began to brood about it as the night progressed.  He really hated how heated he was getting over this, even going as far as forgetting a few orders and having to decipher his hieroglyphs to even begin to guess these people’s order. 

And as luck would have it, he got it completely wrong.

“I didn’t order this.”  The tall blonde with a strong disposition against her burger spat as she threw her it back down on the table causing a small fry explosion.

Attitude? Check.

“I’m really sorry ma’m, what did you want again? I’ll get it out to you as soon as possible.  Totally on me.” Stiles tried his best to placate his guest.

“I don’t remember.  Aren’t you the waiter?  Shouldn’t _you_ know?”

Idiocy?  Check.

Stiles was getting annoyed by now, the events of the entire day compounding on themselves, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with a guest with an attitude, he let his building temper get the best of him.  “Well if you don’t know what you ordered, then how do you know that this is wrong?”  Stiles was only a little smug as he threw her words back in her face.

“I—I want to speak with a manager.”  She smiled knowingly as he inwardly cursed.

Fired? Check.

 

Lydia did not look pleased, not in the least, as she closed the door to her office after his shift ended for the night.  “Stiles.”

“Lyds! How ya doing?”  Stiles offered her a weak smile as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Stiles, do you know who that was?”

“A very _very_ confused person?  And quite rude.” 

“No, that was the _Mayor’s_ daughter.”

“Wow, you would totally think someone like that would be a little more educated about ordering food.” Stiles couldn’t really help himself sometimes.  “Or you know, possess some semblance of manners?”

“She’s pissed!  Stiles!  Take this seriously!”  She buried her face in her palm as her strawberry blonde locks fell forward blocking her face.

“I’m sorry!  What do you want me to say? I know I was a bit snarky with her, but she totally deserved it!” A pinching feeling began spreading through his chest.

“She wants you fired, Stiles.”

The clenching got worse, as his stomach began to turn.   “Lydia, I really need this job.”  Stiles couldn’t help how solemn it came out the contrast to his normal sarcasm was jarring, even to him.

“Stiles, I know.  And you’re not a bad kid, but she’s got connections!  And she’s famous for getting people fired at various restaurants.  Three people were let go when she visited the Apple Garden next door, just last month!  And I heard she got the entire kitchen staff fired over at the Red Cardinal two weeks ago.”

“Well that just sounds dumb, she shouldn’t be allowed to eat in public.  She needs a little box with her name on it, oooh maybe a little food bowl?”

“Stiles!  Be serious!  This time, it wasn’t even a case of her being too unreasonable; she was insulted by what you said!  And multiple people heard you say it.”

“She was insulted by what I said?  I was insulted by what _she_ said!”  Stiles was starting to panic deflection and sarcasm weren’t cutting it anymore.

Lydia shook her head.

“Lyds, I know I was wrong okay? Can we just write me up or something, and move on?  I won’t do it again, I promise, I’ve just been having a bad day.”  Stiles couldn’t hide the pleading in his voice as he let out a big sigh.  He needed this job to pay for his tuition, to become an oncologist so no one else would have to—

Lydia sighed as she looked him square in the eye, speechless for a moment.

This job helped pay for the bills that the Sherriff still had to pay from the therapy, the life insurance money wasn’t sufficient enough to cover all of it.  He felt sick.

“Stiles, it’s out of my hands.  I’ve pleaded your case to the bigwigs but essentially they are going to leave it up to the owner of the company.  I want to say that you have a fighting chance, but I don’t know who the company owner is, they’ve pretty much remained anonymous since the company opened.” Lydia’s expression went soft.  “I’m going to be honest though, it doesn’t look good Stiles.”  Lydia looked apologetic, which was the scariest part.  It meant she was dead serious about this and he was more than likely going to be unemployed by this time tomorrow.

“Fuck—I” Familiar pinpricks began to form behind his eyes as he quickly sucked in air through his nose.  “Thank Lyds.”  He quickly turned and walked out the door making a beeline straight for the exit when he ran into that same familiar brick wall.

“Hey.  What was that all about?”

Stiles refused to look at Derek’s face, as the floodgates were about to open up, he refused to let anyone see him cry.  Not after what he’s been though. “Nothing.  Hey, thanks again for last night, it was really fun.  And don’t worry, I know I’m annoying but I don’t think you will have to deal with that much longer. I gotta go now.” He quickly wrenched himself free as he practically ran outside, tears finally starting to run down his cheeks.   How was he going to explain this to his father?  They don’t have enough money for both his tuition and the leftover medical bills _plus_ the monthly mortgage payments on the house, and he absolutely _refused_ to let his father sell their home. 

He looked up at the dark night sky as the stars above twinkled without a care in the world.  He remembered how he and his mother would sit down on the grassy knolls by the high school and just stargaze with him.  She would teach him about the constellations and say how one day everyone goes up to be with the stars where they don’t have a care in the world.  He found himself really hopeing that it was true, and that she was up there among them.  Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he forced himself to calm down.  He hated the fact that he didn’t even have his best friend right now to go to and he felt so utterly alone.  The closest thing he had to a friend right now was, well Derek.  And even he wasn’t sure if Derek actually thought of him as a friend or just tolerated him.  After all, it was only just a few short months ago that he was absolutely sure that Derek had hated him.  He had pretty much just annoyed the guy into submission.

“What am I going to do?” Stiles whispered to the sky, his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’ll be fine.” Deep baritones floated over to him.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, quickly wiping his eyes before turning around to face him.

“Lydia told me what’s up.  I don’t think it’s much of a big deal.” He shrugged casually as he looked anywhere but Stiles’ face seemingly deciding on a planter that was about three feet to the left of him.

“Uh, I’m not sure if we had the same conversation?”  Stiles sighed.  “She pretty much told me I’m fired, and I only have to wait on it being official.”  Stiles felt defeated saying it out loud.  It made it all the more real.

“She told me it’s up to the owner.” Derek shrugged.  “I don’t know them personally, but from what I’ve heard, they’re pretty reasonable.  This is your first mess up, right?”

Stiles nodded truly hoping that what Derek was saying was true.

“It will be fine.  Just go home and get some rest.”

“Alright.” Stiles didn’t really know what to make of all of this.  He was hopeful that what Derek said was right, but he also knew that he was in deep doo doo.  As he cut the engine of his jeep after pulling into his driveway, he found himself really missing his mother.  She would know what to do in this situation and be there for him even if Scott wasn’t.  She always knew what to do.  He hoped for the best as he went to bed that night, saying a silent prayer to his mother, hoping that she was enjoying her time among the stars.  He went to bed that night with Derek’s words of reassurance echoing in his head, surprisingly comforting him enough to actually fall asleep.

 

Lydia was smiling.  Like full on smiling.  Not even the scary kind either, well that’s a lie any smile of Lydia Martin’s was most definitely a scary smile.   But this time there was no malice or evil plotting going on behind the toothy grin, just simply happiness, maybe?  He was really unsure if the creature was capable of actual happiness.  Stiles was scared shitless as he steadied himself on the desk he was standing next to.  If he was going to be fired today, he didn’t want the last thing for people to remember was him fainting in the office.

“Lydia?” His voice went about three octaves higher than normal.

“Stiles.” Lydia nodded at him, toothy grin yet to diminish.

“Why are you—“ He stopped trying to find a more diplomatic way to ask ‘Why are you happy slash smiling?’ to his boss. “Erm, what’s going on, home slice?”

Smooth.

His suaveness was answered with a thin eyebrow raised.  “Home slice?”

“Nevermind, what’s the news?” He tried to hide the apprehension that was coursing through his entire being at the moment.

“Well, actually, you’re not fired.”

Stiles had to use both hands to stop himself from sliding to the floor in relief.  “Oh my god, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, word came down the ladder this morning that you’re not being fired.” She shrugged.  “You’re a good guy Stilinski.  Just don’t mess up again!  Ever!” She shouted at him as she turned to leave.

“Wait, that’s it?  Just a slap on the wrist?  No write up?  No servitude for twenty years?  No _prison_?”  Stiles whispered the last part.  He really needed to learn when to just accept things as they are and not try to dig himself deeper into a hole.  He would probably die to his own curiosity someday.

Lydia stopped at the door, giving him a pointed look before shrugging.  “Yep.  By orders of the big boss apparently.  Consider yourself lucky.  Now, I expect you out there in five minutes Stilinski, no excuses, or I will personally fire you!”

Leave it to Lydia to put the fear of god instantly back into him.

“Right away sir!” Stiles fake saluted as she shot him a death glare.

Stiles was still in a daze as he worked his shift that night, surprised to hear words of relief and congratulations on dodging the bullet with the mayor’s daughter, he hadn’t known that so many people cared about him.  Or perhaps they just liked the fact that the Mayor’s daughter was probably hella pissed somewhere that he didn’t get fired.

Heck, even Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had said something to him, and those three usually never spoke to anyone outside their own circle.  It must be the Stilinski charm, Stiles thought fondly to himself.

“Congrats on not getting fired, Stiles!” Allison jumped on his back sometime after the lunch rush feeding him a French fry.

Stiles smiled at her.  “Thanks, Aly.”  He never really could find it in himself to hate the girl, sure she was somewhat stealing his best friend away, but she was a pretty awesome person, and despite the current feelings he had for Scott, he was happy for his best friend.

Allison frowned.  “Hey, I know it’s not really my business but you should really talk to Scott.” Her expression softened.  “He was an idiot and I had no idea, but he feels really bad and just wants to make it up to you.” She gave him a small smile and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder.

“Yeah, maybe.” Was all Stiles could say to that.  He had completely forgotten about Scott in the last few hours, filled with relief over the fact that he wasn’t fired from his one and only source of income at the moment.   Mayhaps the potato has suffered enough.  He really hated how forgiving he was sometimes.  His mother used to say it was his best quality though, so he really couldn’t find it in himself to change that about himself.

“You’re a good friend Stiles.” She pinched his cheek playfully before running back out to the floor.

He thought lightly about what Allison had said, resolving on sending a text to Scott to meet him after work at his house, to which a quick response received only a mere second later including the fact that he would be bringing pizza with him.  He must be _really_ sorry.  Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of making up with his best buddy as he sauntered up to the bar window to grab a drink order for his table, smiling as his favorite bartender was on shift tonight—big surprise.

“Hey there Der-bear.”  Stiles cooed, attracting the attention of a few of the women at the bar top, shooting him death glares.

Derek nearly dropped the tumbler he was holding as he joined the trio of women currently trying to burn a hole through his head with their minds.  He coughed as he slammed down Stiles’ crown and coke in front of him shaking his head somewhat fondly.

“Thanks by the way Derek.”  Stiles said earnestly.

Derek seemed surprised for some reason, doing a quick double take.

“What? I’m allowed to say thank you.  You keep your eyebrows in check mister.”  He teased, waggling a finger at the man.

“For what?”  Derek seemed a bit skittish.

“You’re acting strange.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man before snatching his drink from the window and stabbing the ticket.  “For reassuring me.  Thanks.  I don’t think I would have been able to sleep last night if it wasn’t for you.  So I am saying thank you.” Stiles nodded with exaggeration as he turned to leave, not really expecting any sort of response from the man.

“You’re welcome.” He barely heard from behind him, causing an infectious smile spread across his face.

 

“So you and Derek Hale are friends now?” Scott tilted his head at the TV screen, as he seemed bewildered by this fact wolfing down another slice of pizza.  “I thought you said he hated you?  Not that it stopped you from bothering the crap out of him.” Scott seemed to laugh at his own statement.  “I think half of the restaurant talks about how you just talk randomly at him and its sort of hilarious.”

“Well, sort of?”  Stiles really didn’t know the answer to that question.  But he was thoroughly proud of himself for eliminating the word bro from his best friend’s vocabulary.   “And it’s completely hilarious.” 

Scott had come over with pizza in hand like he said right after Stiles’ shift was over and despite however pissed Stiles was at his friend, he really couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad at him any longer.  They talked it out; even including the whole Allison situation.  Scott promising not to be such a potato about it anymore, if Stiles promised not to give up on him like he began to act like an idiot again. All in all, things were pretty darn good between them now.  But, now came the awkward conversation about what he actually did on his birthday if it was not spent with Scott. 

“He’s not a bad guy, at least not as bad as I initially thought.” Stiles contemplated his ‘friendship’ with Derek Hale that had budded over the last six months.  “Once you get through that stony exterior of his, he’s actually is not that bad to be around?” He hadn’t really meant for it to come out as a question.

“You were the one convinced that he hated you, remember?” They were now playing a game of Halo on Stiles’ Xbox.

“I still think he sort of hates me.” He wasn’t really convincing anyone here.

“He bought you a couple beers on your birthday.  It was practically a date.” Scott whined as Stiles killed him with a grenade.

“What?” Stiles squeaked.  “It was so _not_ a date.  That would require him actually liking to be around me?  Where as I think he’s just tolerating my randomness, my _awesome_ randomness of course.”

“Sounds like a date to me.  Isn’t he like 26 or something?” Scott jabbed Stiles in he ribs with his elbow, attempting to distract Stiles and shoot him from behind.  Failure.  “Look, I just want you to be happy, I don’t care who it is.  I just want you to have what Allison and I have.”

“Well, it really wasn’t a date.  And I’m pretty sure Derek considers me as just a coworker.” Leave it to Scott so say something insightful for once.  Stiles went silent as he continued to kick his friend’s ass at Halo. It wasn’t a date, not by any definition of the word, right?  And in his mind he knew this to be true, but he couldn’t really explain the feeling, the hoping maybe, that somehow it was.  He shook his head fervently.  Don’t even go into that territory Stilinski! 

“Okay, this is boring.  I don’t understand how you can suck so badly at this man.  Even Allison is better at this than you.” Stiles got up to pick another game as Scott just gaped.

“Y—you play Halo with Allison?  What?”  Scott jumped up in protest.  “No way! I’ve been trying to get her to play with me for months now!”

“She just knows what a bad loser you are and doesn’t wanna kick your ass at it.” Stiles pat his best friend on the shoulder as he nodded slowly.  “She’s clearly too good for you, I thoroughly enjoy kicking your butt.  Although I can see where she’s coming from, it _can_ be quite boring sometimes.  You’re just no challenge anymore.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at Scott’s affronted expression.  “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here to kick your butt when Allison isn’t, because I, am a good friend.”

“I think I liked it better when we weren’t talking.” Scott muttered half-heartedly as he stomped downstairs to grab a drink.

“Awww, is Mrs. Potatohead hurt?” Stiles cooed sickeningly. 

“I take offense to that!” Scott shouted somewhere down the hallway.

“You’re supposed to!”

“Bitch!”

“Jerk!”

“And grab me a coke while you’re down there!”

“Okay!”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, this was what he missed most about their friendship, and he was just happy to have it back.

 

The next couple of weeks passed without too much happenstance.  Stiles caught up in school, and work went well for the most part.  There was the occasional annoying guests, but nothing he couldn’t handle diplomatically.  Stiles was actually becoming the model employee for difficult guests, or so Lydia had announced once, after he placated a party of 17 that came in with no reservation and ended up having to wait double the quoted time.  His amazing service apparently made them forget that they even had a wait and left a raving review with Lydia as well as a fat tip.  Which really made up for all the verbal tips he was getting lately.  And the bible.  Someone left him an actual full sized bible.  Which he snuck into Derek’s locker after work one day.

Stiles continued to talk at Derek without much change in their interactions, except for the fact that Derek seemed to be genuinely listening to what the chatterbox had to say; actual eye contact was engaged even sometimes.  Okay once.  But it totally counted!  Not to mention the occasional nod in his general direction, even if there were guests behind him at the time.  All in all, things were looking up.  So of course finals had to be around the corner just to mess with his life.  Staying up for 72 hours at a time to study while going to work and trying to maintain some sort of semblance of a social life was something Stiles thinks he will never get used to.  Okay, who is he kidding, he has no social life at this point besides work, Scott, and on the rare occasion Derek, although can talking at someone really be considered being social if the conversation is completely one sided?  He’s gone too far at this point to really care.

He had just finished his last final when he clawed his way back into the restaurant hoping to grab a drink to celebrate the fact that he had successfully survived the great finals of 2019.  He wasn’t surprised to see Derek there, but was surprised to see him grabbing his stuff getting ready to leave.

“Hey Der-bear!” Stiles sauntered over to the man as he pulled a bag from underneath the bar and shoved his uniform into it.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Stiles.”  He gave a tight nod.

“You’re off tonight?  I thought you practically live here.” Stiles hopped up on one of the barstools and rested his head on his right fist.  “Lydia finally give you the keys to your shackles?”  Stiles teased as he playfully tapped at the bar top with his fingers.

“Nope.  Boyd wanted to switch shifts tonight, so I did.” Derek swung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped out from behind the bar top.

It was only about 4 o’clock on a Friday so The Wolf Pack was pretty empty, not to mention most college students were probably passed out after taking their last final of the week, and hopefully for the year.

“What are you doing here?”  Derek asked as Stiles looked around to see if Scott was anywhere to be seen.

Not spotting Scott anywhere he replied, “Just wanted to stop off for a drink to celebrate finals being over.  I nearly died.” Stiles said with as much severity as possible.

Snorting, Derek shrugged.  “Good for you then.”

Stiles found himself thinking back on the night of his birthday, how easy and fun it was to be around Derek, and how he was hoping and wishing that maybe it was—

“Hey, if you’re not doing anything, would you like to join me?” Stiles blurt it out before he even knew what he was saying.  He just invited Derek Hale out for a drink. He blamed it on the sleep deprivation.

Derek rose what seemed to be an amused eyebrow at him.

“Y-you don’t have to, if you’re busy.  Or you know, don’t want to.” Stiles shrugged as he averted his gaze elsewhere.  There was a particularly interesting new scratch on the bar near the well.

“I—I don’t know, I kind of wanted to just get out of here.  Been here all day, you know.  Are you planning on drinking here?” Derek shrugged as he rubbed the back of his head non-committedly. 

“It doesn’t have to be here.” Stiles found himself quickly offering.  Wow, his mouth had a mind of its own today—more so than usual anyways.

“I—uh, okay that sounds good then.” Derek replied nodding.  “Let me just grab my stuff from my locker.” He started towards the back stopping shortly to turn around, narrowing his eyes at Stiles.  “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know about someone losing a bible, would you?”

“Nope.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  Goose egg.” Stiles replied a little too quickly for his own liking.

“Right.” Derek raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“I’ll wait for you at the front then?” Stiles quickly offered heading over towards the door as Derek nodded and headed towards the back of the house.

Stiles sat down at one of the benches near the entrance as he tried to control his breathing.  Why was he so nervous all of a sudden, he’s been out with Derek for a drink before, it was just a normal thing, right?  Okay, so maybe it was just once and out of pity for him being completely ditched by his best friend on his twenty-first birthday, but it counted!  It’s totally a platonic thing.   He could totally be bros with Derek.  Right?  He could definitely handle this, he could.  Yep, he could do anything he puts his mind to!  At least that’s what his father used to tell him in elementary school.

Derek reappeared in front of the host stand a few minutes later stopping a few feet away form where Stiles was having his internal freak out.

“Ready to go?” Derek asked him as Stiles looked up.

Derek had changed into something a bit more casual, his tight black undershirt hugging him in all the right places and a nice pair of jeans that did exactly the same thing as his shirt. Stiles couldn’t help but give Derek a full body check, raking him with his eyes up and down.  Twice.

“Uhm, yes?” Stiles squeaked, nodding a bit too quickly as he shot up from his seat, cheeks reddening slightly.  Just when did he become attracted to Derek Hale?

If Derek noticed his strange behavior, he didn’t let on as he nodded and led the way out the door, stopping and waiting for Stiles to actually move from where he was planted.  Derek smiled genuinely before rolling his eyes.  “Today?”

Only able to utter out the tiniest of a squeak, Stiles brain short circuited as he was exposed to the full strength of Derek’s smile and instantly melted into a steaming puddle of goo pooling in the the entranceway to The Wolf Pack. 

Right then.  

_So._

_Extremely._

_Fucked_.

Party of one.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what did you think? I'm working on my other fic as well so the feedback will most likely determine which one I update first. And as for this being unbeated, perhaps my normal beta wouldn't mind picking this one up for me? If you have time, and I know you're reading this. Don't even pretend.
> 
> I'm expecting this to be about 3-5 chapters about this length or a little less. :) Rating is possibly for future chapters.


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